


best friends

by indefensibleselfindulgence



Series: end of the end of the world [2]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Bad Parenting, But Also Post Game, Emotionally Repressed, Gen, POV Multiple, backstory speculation, pre-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2020-10-11 17:16:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20549813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indefensibleselfindulgence/pseuds/indefensibleselfindulgence
Summary: They met once, when they were children.





	1. Chapter 1

She gets taken to the castle once.  
  
Just once, when there was still a castle to be taken too, pressed tightly to her mother's side. No personal escort, not that they needed one, just the two of them in an empty tram car that took them straight to the palace. She had pressed up to the window to watch a few bug walk by, spiders at first and then beetles.  
  
She didn't wave at them.  
  
The palace was a thing of splendor. Hornet couldn't stop staring. There was just so much- so much white everywhere! That sort of milky alabaster and marble so different from the webs she was used too. Midwife had told her stories of it, when her mother was gone hunting, and she couldn't sleep, but now seeing it with her own eyes, it all seemed so much more grandiose.  
  
The walls were so tall, the hallways were so spacious. Who could ever use this much space? A far cry from the cramped, tight spaces of the weavers den, or the part of the caves Midwife claimed for herself. Or even mother's room, with its vaulted ceiling, seemed so small with all of those countless webs. They were comfortable in them. Hornet couldn't help but wonder how the people here managed to live with out them. Even now, she had three spools on her belt, right next to the thin nail her mother had brought back on one trip.  
  
The bugs here all bowed till their heads touched the floor. Her mother just pulled her along faster.  
  
"Up." She ordered and Hornet scurried up her mother's back, pressed close so that no one else hears her mother whisper, "What were you told before we left."  
  
"That a child is going to be there."  
  
"And?"  
  
Hornet swallows, fingers digging a little tightly into the plates of her mother's neck.  
  
"That I shouldn't talk to it if the king or queen are near."  
  
"Good girl." Her mother reaches back and squeezes her wrist gently. "It won't talk. Can't. But be kind to it regardless."  
  
Hornet nods and gets off of her back just as the White Lady rounds the corner.  
  
"Oh." She smiles pleasantly.  
  
Hornet thinks she's horrifying to look at, but she doesn't show it. At least she hopes she doesn't. She doesn't even look like a bug, tall and long and wispy. Like the thin dream roots she finds in the tunnels from time to time. Or like the flowers Vespa grows in her private chambers.  
  
Like a strong breeze could knock her over.  
  
Her mother talks amiably enough, considering the circumstances between them. Hornet doesn't really know all the details, too young apparently. Midwife won't tell her, and Vespa laughs when she asks.  
  
She almost misses the child, stalk still behind the Queen. Big horns. The only big thing about them. No nail. No spool. No nothing.  
  
"Wouldn't that be nice?" Hornet looks up and the White Lady smiles at her, hair(?) waving in the smallest breeze in the hallway. Her mother tugs her arm a little and Hornet nods. She completely missed what they were talking about- too distracted by the child. "Come along then."  
  
Her mother nods and Hornet walks over. The White Lady offers her hand and Hornet takes it. She doesn't have a shell, Hornet thinks. Or, alternatively, she has the softest shell she's ever felt.  
  
Her mother stays in the hall way as the Queen leads her and the child away. Just as they're about to turn out of line of sight she spots the King. But only for a second, just the pale sharp crown  
wears, and then he's gone. Or rather, Hornet is gone, down the hall way.  
  
"Do you have a name child?"  
  
"No." She says, because Hornet was for her mother and for Vespa and for her and not for anyone else. Even Midwife didn't know it.  
  
"Just so." The Queen says, head rocking back and forth lightly. Hornet almost worries that a stiff breeze will push her away. They came from outside, at some point, Midwife had said. The wind outside of Hallownest was strong. How had she made it here? "Your mother has a fair amount of sense."  
  
"Thank you." Hornet says, because what else is she meant to?  
  
"You've never seen the capitol before, have you?" She shakes her head. She's not been to very many places. Maybe one day, her mother would say. When she was older and better with her nail. "Your sibling hasn't see it's beauty yet either. Exciting, isn't it? Going to new places for the first time? So much to learn, to see, to do?"  
  
Hornet nods agin, and doesn't mention that the castle is a new place, to her at least. She chances a glance at her- did the Queen say her sibling? Her mother didn't mention any other children- or at least children who weren't spiders and long passed. The Child stares straight ahead, unblinking. Barely alive, she thinks. Its fingers twitch, and twitch again.  
  
Weird.  
  
Servants bow so deep as they pass.  
  
"They bow for you as well child." Hornet almost jumps. "Princess, I suppose."  
  
"Of the Deepnest." She says, with a sort of new pride. Her mother never called her that, but is what she was wasn't she?  
  
"Of course." The Queen laughs. It's a soft twinkling sound.  
  
She looks out the windows whenever they pass one, watching people pass. Servants mostly, they do all seem to be dressed the same. Between staring out windows and staring at the Child she barely notices that they arrive to a cage with an attendant.  
  
She tries not to show her surprise when the entire thing shakes and starts moving up. The Queen talks to the attendant and she watches the castle shrink into nothing.  
  
The city itself is- is- is so much, really. People of all sorts, buildings that reach up into the cavern space, and the rain! The Queen makes sure to pull her cloak a little tighter for her, and for the Child as well. She feels it on her shell, the constant soft hit that drips down her cloak and pools at her feet.  
  
"We're under a lake." The Queen whispers to her. "It's so vast. One day I hope you can see it. The water is a beautiful color. And so clear."  
  
Hornet tries to imagine a lake of water- easier said than done.  
  
The Queen and now a few guards as well, which, why, when she can defend herself easily enough, leads them to a fountain- water with more water- what are they doing up here?  
  
The Child get unbelievably stiff.  
  
She notices that first.  
  
She notices the Queen cry second.  
  
The statue they're all standing under is of a tall bug- surrounded by three-  
  
"Is that my mother?"  
  
It's a stupid question, because it is, of course. Who else could it be? And the tall bug has the Child's big horns-  
  
"What is this?" She asks.  
  
"Something in their honor." The Queen says. "Have they not taught you to read yet, Child?"  
  
Of course she can read- real words, though. Not whatever this scratch is on the plate. Spider's letters were much simpler- and way less rounded. No extra points, no confused order. Up to down, that's all.  
  
They stand there for what must be a good while, Hornet staring up at her mother. She really does look imposing, furious. It makes her proud too, that all of these people get to see her like this. She debates reaching out and trying to touch the statue but she refrains. Hornet wonders if her mother knows. If anyone told her.  
  
Someone comes rushing up to the Queen, out of breath and seemingly rather cross. The Queen gets pulled away, a quiet laugh and the knight's name whispered kindly, and then they're left alone.  
  
Her and her sibling.  
  
Despite how crowded the street is, and if she was alone maybe it would press down on her as tightly as Deepnest's corridors do, it feels like it's just the two of them. Two royal children standing in front of a weird statue in the middle of the capitol city.  
  
Her sibling, and find let it, let them be her sibling, still stands ramrod straight. Their hands still shake with how tightly their claws dig into their palms. She's only somewhat surprised they're not bleeding yet.  
  
She looks at the statue again, the main figure that looms over almost everything in the street. The same big horns, the same hollow eyes.  
  
"Is that meant to be you?" She asks after a few more furtive glances.  
  
The child jumps, obviously startled. Why, she wonders. They nod though, tightly, chin barely dipping.  
  
"You're a fair bit shorter." She really can't imagine ever being that tall. Where did they get their height from? The White Lady wasn't that tall, and if she was being honest, didn't even seem like a bug. The Pale King, from what little she saw of him was shorter than her mother. "You won't grow into that. I doubt it, anyway."  
  
They're already taller then her, but it's only because of those horns. Her own are coming in any day now.  
  
She takes a step closer to them, consumed by something she can't name and whispers her name.  
  
They do look shocked then, as much as they look anything. The Child takes a step back from her and looks up at the Statue again.  
  
"You don't have to use it." There's something nice about choosing who gets to know though. About who gets to use it. Even if they never see each other again. "I know they didn't give you one. You can come up with one though, in secret. Or ask someone else to give you one- that's tradition."  
  
At least it is in Deepnest.  
  
And probably the Hive.  
  
They don't say anything, now that she thinks about it, they probably can't talk, at least not out loud, but they look between her and the statue and then after a moment point at the plaque again, at words in a language she can't read.  
  
"I'll learn it soon." She promises, and tries to memorize the scribbles.  
  
The White Lady appears again, in the corner of her vision and the crowds almost part for her. She takes both of their hands and leads them all the way back to the castle, the knight now in tow with them, by The Queen's side shooting daggers at passersby.  
  
"It was my pleasure to meet you." She says, when she's back up on her mother's shoulders an hour later. The White Lady smiles and Hornet hopes their sibling knows it was directed at them.  
  


...

  
She stands at the ruins of the old castle, a single knight's corps at her feet just like always.  
  
Maybe it's for the better, that it's all dead and gone and dirt under her feet. Her sibling is resting miles above and The Radiance is dead and she should be glad. They're hurt, sure, maybe even irreparably, but they're alive and they cried when they saw her and she felt better about so many things all at once.  
  
Her other sibling is gone. Maybe not dead, but that seems like an exceptionally big maybe. Her search for a body brought her down here and she had lost a fair chunk of time to memories from what could be centuries ago. She could make her way down to the Abyss some other time. No need to leave her sibling alone for too long.  
  
Not that they are anymore, she thinks, heading to the stag station. Everyone is happy to help them recover and thank them for their arduous efforts. Everyone left anyway.  
  
She finds them an hour later, sprawled out in the hot spring not far from Dirtmouth. She can still see through them, the holes in their chest from their own best efforts at aid. They're sleeping, she thinks, still with softness and not nerves. They still go ramrod straight from time to time, nervous. Old habits die hard.  
  
She kneels down by their head, running her claw over their stupid huge horns gently. They wake slowly, a sharp breath followed by many calm ones.  
  
"You grew into them after all." She says, and she's glad she's only met with a head tilt.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it. got away from me.

They remember their birthplace.  
  
Cold and dark, by a massive lake, or ocean maybe. They remember sitting at the shore as the Lighthouse swung its beam across the expanse, feet in the void with a few others beside them. They were made pristine, like all the others. Pristine, empty bodies by the thousands, maybe even by the millions.  
  
Made to wait until Creator was satisfied and made clear their purpose.  
  
They walk on bones, shells and skulls of failed creations, and watch others fall from massive heights. They watch others try and talk, try and sign and they know before they even try and make the assent that they will fail. That they will have to watch their step to avoid corpses.  
  
There is another creation, like themselves, though smaller in size that follows after them sometimes.  
  
They don't know why.  
  
The creation's sockets are always watching though. Some of the others do as well, but they don't make it up to Creator.  
  
The challenge itself is not so hard. Their claws are sharp, filed thinner on the rocks of the Lighthouse to make gripping the stone easier. Even if they are one of the taller creations they are thin, and their shell has grooves that make things easier.  
  
Bodies fall around them, even as they ascend higher and higher.  
  
The one that follows them all the time is a few feet below, their shell lacking grooves, lacking the muscle they themselves have in their legs.  
  
Creator stands tall, light almost blinding them.  
  
The one that follows them grips the edge of the walk way and for a moment they think maybe Creator will allow them both too pass, but the other one can't even haul themselves the whole way up.  
  
“Come.” Creator says and they follow after him, only sparing a glance at the other creation. “Now.” Creator says and they are quick to follow.

…

  
Creator is Father, or King or Wyrm.  
  
They are the Hollow Knight.  
  
They exist to vanquish the Radiance. A great and awful monster that seeks to hurt those that Father protects. Father means creator, King means protector. They never learn what Wyrm means, but everyone carries on as if they know and they do not want to be a burden to Father.  
  
They are given things that belong to them. Rooms, cloaks, a Nail. A room is a place one sleeps, cloaks are clothes one wears, and a Nail is something to do Father's will with. That is why they were made. Father tells him this quietly, alone at night in their room, when they rest in their bed after being cleaned.  
  
“You shall remain Hollow. So that something can fill the space.”  
  
'The Radiance?' They sign, after watching Father do it all day. Father's face does something they've seen the defects in the Abyss do. Father reaches out and runs a fleshy and soft hand along Hollow Knight's shoulders.  
  
“Yes.” Father says. “So clever.” Father praises and leaves for the night.  
  
The Knight doesn't know what to spend the rest of the time doing so they sit in bed, waiting for Father to return.  
  
Instead another creature finds them.  
  
Mother, or Queen, or Lady is their other Creator. She is solid and beautiful and sways with the lightest breeze through the palace. She teaches them words, she teaches them their duties, she teaches them history. Of the kingdom before it was called Hallownest. Of what the Radiance does. Of what they're meant to protect.  
  
There are other bugs- that is what all of them are- bugs- in the palace. Some can fly, some skitter up walls, some walk just like they do, like Father and Mother do. They all look so different from the defects.

…

  
  
They grow, slowly.  
  
Their horns get longer, not by much, but enough that Mother and Father both remark on them. Their Parents are happy.  
  
Happy is complicated.  
  
They meet those that they will be entombed with, wearing masks already, for their sake. Monomon and Lurian and Herrah, they are called. Teacher, Watcher, Beast. They spend the most time with Monomon, because the others are too busy, with learning and ruling. Herrah is a Queen as well, of another Kingdom far from the castle.  
  
She grows and then shrinks in the few times they see her.  
  
Monomon tells them of children off handedly, while Teacher tries to explain what Happy is.  
  
“An Emotion.”  
  
Emotions are not things they are meant to have. Father has told them outright, they will corrupt quickly and ruthlessly, and that under no circumstances is The Hollow Knight meant to have them. They are to be Pure and Hollow and Empty and Good.  
  
“An Emotion is something of a feeling that bugs have. Like when you've felt cold, or the like. Tired from physical exertion. But they come from inside, not from outside stimuli.”  
  
'And they're bad.' The Hollow Knight signs.  
  
Monomon's shoulders shake for a moment before nodding.  
  
“Best to talk of easier things.” She says. Teacher is very tall and very imposing when she wants them to focus on something, so it is easy to do.

…

  
Father adds more to the castle.  
  
“For you.” Father says. “Once you can navigate it you will lessen a burden for us.”  
  
The Path of Pain, they call it, inside. Mostly because it is exhausting and painful and they're not great at poetry yet, despite Teacher's best efforts. Their shell cracks many times navigating the long horrific passageway under Father's watchful eye.  
  
It hurts when the saws dig past the shell and scrape the Void. But they learn to steel themselves, learn to force the Void inside of them to still, to take in such a way that makes their movements easy. Just like ascending, except no bones litter the floors. Just thorns and saws.  
  
Herrah watches once, and drags Father away to whisper something in his ear angrily.   
  
Anger is easier. It's productive, and makes the pain ebb away. They are filled with anger too, when they think of the Radiance, and of how Sad it makes Mother and how Angry it makes Father.   
  
Angry is useful, they think because they have a lot of things to be angry about. Sad is useful too, because there is plenty to be sad about. Anger thrums through their body every time a saw cracks their carapace and sadness sits heavy in their empty chest every time Mother keeps herself from running her light fingers over their horns.  
  
And it sits there for Father too, who worries, and for Herrah, and Monomon, and Lurian who are going to be entombed with them.  
  
Herrah teaches them how to cling to the walls easier, to use not just their claws but their legs too. It's easier for her, more legs and the way they stick to seemingly nothing. She puts a hand on their back when Father and Mother are not around and tells them that everything is fine, and they should just focus on what they do best.  
  
They don't bother asking what that's meant to be.  
  
They like to think that they've become good at hiding their interest.  
  
At hiding anything and everything at all.

…

  
They meet their Sibling.  
  
That is what Father calls the small bug who carries a Nail already. Mother corrects him, says that the child is a Sister and that makes Father hide a look of sadness from Mother.  
  
Sister tells them in secret that her name is Hornet, and that she's learning to read and sign the way they do. She smiles at them before she leaves.  
  
“She is special.” Father tells them later, while they are allowed to catch their breath from the Path. “Not like you. Not of void. You are worth more, though. So much more.” Even if Hornet is Father's only organic child, Father holds no great expectations for her.  
  
But then, Father doesn't call her Hornet.  
  
That's just for them.  
  
'If someone else made it from the Abyss would they have been special too?' Their arms hurt to move but the question doesn't leave them until they do.  
  
Father hesitates in his answer, which is rare and new and scary.  
  
“Yes. Of course. They would have been The Knight. Instead of you.”  
  
At night, they lay in their bed and think of the smaller failure that followed them around. The little thing always stared so much. Watched them for days as they scraped their claws against the stone of the lighthouse but never doing it themselves. Standing on the shore and looking up instead of sitting on the dock with their feet in the void. They would look around at some of the other too, never talked, never did much of anything other than just watched.  
  
The Knight wonders if the thing- their sibling would be better at being empty.

…

  
Father is happy, when they finally cross the entire path, and they are happy too.  
  
Happy, and angry that they can't show Father this side of themselves. Sad too when Father sits by their side on the balcony, holding their hand with his own.  
  
“You'll be strong soon.” He says.  
  
Indignant, they learn later from Lurian. Indignant, like angry but more focused. Indignant that they are not considered strong already. But more Sad than anything. And Scared too, that if they move the moment is broken.  
  
They sit in Lurian's tower, and the bug lets them look through the massive scope.  
  
“You should see what you're going to save.” Lurian tells them.  
  
It really is very much. So many lives, so many buildings, so many hopes and dreams and-  
  
“Has Monomon been teaching you poetry?” They didn't realize they were signing as they thought, but they nod, embarrassed. An exceptionally weird emotion, if they had to categorize it. “I'll give you something better to read. She's brilliant, of course.” Lurian crosses his tower and pulls out books as he goes, his tiny assistant rushing after to pick up the ones he lets drop on the floor. “But a better teacher then poet.”  
  
They would say they don't have anything to judge against but no one is looking at them and they've no voice with out attention.  
  
“Here, here.” The book is large, exceptionally large, and very heavy. “A history of our Kingdom. Better written, even if her elegies made it in there.”  
  
They are familiar with Monomon's elegies. They recite them to themselves when they have nothing better to do.  
  
Father likes them too.

  
…

  
  
They get taller, eventually.  
  
As tall as the statue that stands in the middle of the City, but they still have to look up at it, mounted as it is in the fountain. They remember Hornet prodding the plate, and wonder if she's learned to read yet.  
  
They wonder about their weird staring sibling too, sometimes. What all of their siblings are doing in the Abyss. If they are even doing anything at all. If there is anything down there at all.  
  
'What does the Radiance look like?' They ask at some point, of Mother, because Father would undoubtably be angry.  
  
“Like falsehoods.” Mother tells them, her knight by her side, claw on her Nail and glaring at anyone who even dares get close. “Like promises made centuries ago to things that don't exist.”  
  
'What does that look like?' They wonder.  
  
“I've seen it before, in dreams.” Mother says quietly. The gardens here are empty for the most part, but an occasional servant will be seen. “My Wyrm has as well.” Dryya finds a grass wall to inspect and they are left alone, Mother's hair making the only sound. “A big bright and massive thing, like an old sort of bug long gone from this land.”  
  
'Why does she loathe Father?'  
  
“Because he took what was his to take. And she disagreed.”  
  
'She?' Like Mother, like Hornet. Like Herrah and Monomon and Dryya.  
  
The personalization poisons them.  
  
“She hides in the world of dreams, promising light. And when no one takes her offers she poisons us.” They don't know how to respond. Mother takes their hand gently. “But you'll protect us. Keep her away from the glorious Kingdom.”  
  
'Yes.' They say, automatically.  
  
There's never been another answer.

  
…

  
The chains Father binds them in are cold,  
  
They said farewell to their few friends, as far as possible, and long since told Mother their good byes. Now just Father is left, to seal them inside the egg.  
  
“You are strong.” Father says. “Be strong just a while longer.”  
  
They can't answer, arms tight by their sides.  
  
Father looks small for the first time.  
  
“You're protecting the kingdom. You're protecting me.”  
  
They know.  
  
“I-” Father says something, shoulders shaking for just a second before he tilts his head. “No- You're the best Knight I could have asked for. My best creation.”  
  
Praise makes their chest feel lighter.  
  
“I-” And still, the sentence is not completed. “Rest well.”  
  
Father's face is the last thing they see before the egg is shuttered closed and darkness surrounds them for centuries.

…

  
Their sister is kind, just as kind as they remember.  
  
Hornet takes time cleaning their wounds, the place where their Nail shoved through their empty shell and the place where their arm rotted away. The people of Dirtmouth are kind too, though they are warier. Maybe they shouldn't be. All of the ones that stop by tell them about their tiny sibling, of all of the favors they did. The old bug that seems to enjoy spending time with them, sitting vigil by their bedside has a lot of stories to tell.  
  
He places a flower by their side, that their sibling gifted him.  
  
They think they can remember something like it in Mother's garden.  
  
Hornet doesn't let them leave any further then the hot spring to replenish soul, but maybe at some point she'll let up. They'd love to visit Mother, and their friends as well. Or at least their resting places. They haven't been in the City for so long, and Lurian's tower was undoubtedly a mess. They've never seen the Archives, or Deepnest but they're sure Hornet could take them.  
  
As soon as she finds their little sibling.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen i know it's been a minute i know

They stand.

Or they try to, anyway, on teetering legs that are suddenly too long and too heavy and subsequently crash face first into water. Their memories are hazy, the glittering gold of Godhome still searing in their mind, the shrieks of the Radiance echoing in their ears, and then nothing. Cold, and damp now, because they're still- right- 

They stick their arms out, too long again, but now if they concentrate, sturdy enough to push up and out of the water. 

Oh, the Junkyard. 

Right.

Okay. 

Sitting up is hard, because their limbs have become so unnecessarily long. Well, climbing will be easier, at the very least. If they could just pull themselves up a ledge instead of needing to relay on their borrowed claw- 

“Of all the things to be thinking about-” 

Oh! 

Godseeker is here too. Yes, there she is, clinging to her head, black dripping from her brass mask. Neither of them seem to be doing all too well, but Godseeker slumps over her casket and they manage to wiggle themselves into a seating position, even if half of them are still in the water. Their shell cracks as they move, like their body is struggling to accommodate itself. 

“Truly.” She whistles- or exhales and the sound is made reedy through whatever internal state her helm must be in. “And still, thou allowed this humble shell to remain.” 

They weren't really all there, at the end. 

“No, God of Gods. Clearly thee found thyself otherwise occupied.” 

If they crane their neck just so they could make out a reflection in the water- their mask is gone. Their face is fluid, ink in the reflection, though it's eyes are... more than they remember having. They're going to have to find a replacement mask quickly, people might run at the sight otherwise. 

Attempt number two at standing goes marginally better- they do remain upright for a few seconds longer, dropping to their knees inches from Godseeker, who bows out of the direction. If they're in the Junkyard, they're not far- not that far from the Mask Maker- though navigating those cramped tunnels when they're like this might be harder. 

“We can wait here.” Godseeker says quickly. “If thee demand us, your humblest of servants to follow then we shall gladly. But as embarrassed are we to admit, our glorious shell was not made for-” And then with the implication of disgust, “Such varied locations.” 

They'll be back soon. 

“We've no doubt, God of Gods.” 

No. 

“No?” 

Not that title. 

“Ah, but that is the creature before us. Perhaps a bit shorter, but-” 

They leave then, on unsure legs. 

…

Their body breaks when the fall. 

The other creation walks after Creator and they are left to fall the entire length of the Abyss until they land on other failed bodies. The sensation of their skull cracking open are the last thing they feel- a sharp sound and a sharper tug- and then they wake up. 

Their shade hovers a few feet away, and attacks them quickly. 

There is nothing to defend themselves with, not really, other than the bricks of the Lighthouse that they desperately scramble towards, climbing over bodies who don't rise to meet their shades. Why then, are they left to toil, to struggle? 

Maybe just being in the glow of Creator was enough for miracles. 

They had made it so far- so far-

Not fast enough though. 

They scrape out a stone from the Lighthouse, dig their feet into the rock and pull until they stumble over with the weight of and barely manage to bring it over their heads to stop their shade from hurting them anymore. 

The darkness is still and everything is quiet- quiet enough- quiet as usual. Bodies fall, but when don't they. The creation they usually followed around, any sense of normalcy gone, and now it's just them, alone. They settle into the tiny groove they left when they dug out the rock, settled against the cool stone of the Lighthouse. 

Maybe they will try to climb again soon. 

Maybe Creator will want more.

...

They crawl back into the Junkyard, new shiny mask on their face, which is not wholly unpleasant. Their nail is too short, which is a travesty after all of the geo they poured into it, but the tendrils that come when they call are exciting. The chaotic thrashing is viscerally satisfying, there's no denying that. 

And the quiet that comes over them is not so singular anymore. 

They are hollow, to some extent, or they were before, before they let Hallownest in. Even if there are few people left, they found themselves caring, at the end. 

They are sad for the ghosts, and angry for being robbed, and satisfied when they beat down a particularly hard enemy. Sleepy when they got to spend a few moments with the Seeker, and safe when they got to sit up in Dirtmouth with Elderbug. Happy when the Grimmkin sat against their legs and happy at seeing Quirell and Tiso and Cloth and their sister. And euphoric, almost, when they finally, finally, beat down the Radiance. 

If that was even real. 

Godseeker sits on her casket, wiping at the edges of her mask where void is still seeping out. They lift a hand to them, to help them up, and the black rushes, as if with a mind of it's own, into their arm. 

“Your power truly knows no ends God of-” She flusters and they don't point out that its nothing but a step above cleaning. 

They plan on carrying Godseeker up to Dirtmouth, for what purpose they're not sure, and then returning for the coffin. Though, now that they think about it, with their new height it's going to be harder to dig out of the water ways. 

Well- 

They could always go the long way round. 

…

How long do they wait? 

How long since their home has been sealed off, since Creator, content with his singular Creation left the remains to rot? No shining pale light ever appeared at the top of the cavern, and the Lighthouse Keeper has remained at their post with out change. 

The inky pools are still, and they wander to them from time to time. They are one of a couple still walking around. Every step now accompanied by a crunch under foot. Two of the living failures sit and talk to each other, tracing patterns on each other's shells like they had before Creator's light came. Like nothing has changed for them at all. 

They stare up at the Lighthouse. 

They stare out on the lake. 

They stare at the two creations who found ways to talk- the sound of their scraping so loud. 

They stare at the bodies around them. 

They stare at the Lighthouse. 

They stare up into nothing. 

They wonder what of the Creation that made it, that Creator was pleased with. They wonder if the Creation has better things to stare at. They wonder if the Creation remembers the lake, and the Lighthouse. They wonder if the Creation ever walked on cracked shells and listened to scraping for so long. 

They stare at the Lighthouse. 

They stare up.

They listen to the lake. 

They watch empty shades try to find their bodies. 

They walk the length of what is available to them, listening to the crack crack crack crack crack of their footsteps. They count who can still move. Them, the two on the shore, the Lighthouse Keeper. A few others who stare at nothing and wander around, waiting. 

They stare at the Lighthouse.

They listen to the voices in the ink. 

They count who is left. 

How long do they wait?

…

With a final shove, both of them are out of the waterways. 

Good to know that no matter how much they save, and how hard they work, the flukes are virtually untouched by their actions. A degree of absolutely unpleasant consistency, and even if their size has tripled, they don't seem to care. Utterly indifferent in every way. Or just hungry, maybe. 

“A fascinating city-” Godseeker whispers from their back. They've taken to carrying her, when she proved on the slower side. The longer limbs are useful for that much at least. “A monument to ingenuity.” 

There aren't many benches near by, and they get a sense that even now, Godseeker would complain about the rain so- 

“We come from the land of storms.” 

Ah- they forgot, a little bit. 

“We hardly expect thy to keep track of such tawdry detail- we are not worthy of-” 

Maybe Lemm's shop, so that they could rest their legs. 

“You've... gotten larger.” They deposit Godseeker on the carpeting and duck to get inside. “And you have a friend. One harder to believe than the last.” Lemm's the same too, it seems. They're happy about that, warmth filling their chest somewhat. “Have you got anything for me or have you come to crowd my doorway?” 

Godseeker stares up at the shelves of relics, silent. They stretch past her, careful not to nudge anything over and kneel down by Lemm's counter. Their new horns almost scrape against the ceiling. They slide a journal and a seal across the counter. 

“You've such a knack for this sort of thing.” But Lemm hands them the geo- they can finally see where he gets it from too- that's new. 

That's a type of change they can learn to enjoy. 

“You know, just because it's you, even if you are ruining my décor, your sister's been by.” 

Hornet? 

Lemm startles for a second, looks around and then back at them. 

“Have you been able to do that the entire time-” They shake their head. It's almost a surprise Lemm recognized them at all. “Well who else wanders in here, loaded as you are?” He huffs. “Yes, her.” Carrying on as if nothing's changed. “She's come asking for you.” 

Ah- 

That warms their chest too. 

They'll get out of the shop soon. 

“You can stay a moment longer, if you like.” Lemm glances at Godseeker, who's thin arms are tracing along the edges of the shelf. “Where did you find your... friend?” 

Junkyard.

“A place of many treasures, clearly.” 

They feel something bubble in their chest, gleeful. 

“Bring more by next time.” 

Of course.

…

They walk the length of what is available to them more times than they can count. 

Crack crack crack until they are up against the dirt wall of the ravine, where the light from the Lighthouse is just a thin line. There is a small tunnel here, dug out by something else that is new. They stare at it for a long time, the distant echo of scraping still ever present. 

They crawl through. It feels like a long walk, dirt compacted tightly against their sides. The scraping follows them for a long time until it's finally too quiet too hear. 

They are used to the dark, but this seems heavy, like the inky lake with the voices. 

They pop out of the ground after crawling for a very long time. There is new scraping now, like whispering, inside the dirt. There's a sharp cold feeling along the inside of their shell that is new, they do not understand it and they do not appreciate it. 

But they see light, faint as it is at the top of the cavern, and there is no Lighthouse here to cast it. 

Maybe this was the challenge Creator had set. 

They start to climb, and try their very best to ignore the skittering. It feels like they climb for a very long while, slipping and losing progress, and falling once, until they end up in a new place- so bright it hurts. 

Creator? 

Is Creator here? 

It's soft here- fleshy things come from the dirt and almost tickle as they walk past. It is quiet here, they are all alone, and sometimes something invisible comes fast and makes the soft things make a sound like the fabric the Lighthouse Keeper had. 

Had Creator made this place too? Was Creation somewhere here? 

Should they climb even higher? 

Maybe this is a trick- new things to distract from the journey- yes- that seems like something Creator might make. 

The ground is soft too, and they sit down on it. Little bits of something- of water- 

What a fascinating place. 

But they should keep climbing up. 

This is much more challenging than their first journey. 

…

The elevator does a lot of the work, but finally, finally, they crawl out of the well and into Dirtmouth. 

Just in time to have a nail shoved against their mask. 

Zote? Sly? Quirrel? They keep looking- not Hornet either- someone very tall and- oh. 

Oh. 

This is Creation- sibling. 

Their sibling. 

They recognize them from Godhome, or a version of them at least, not quiet as tall or rigid, mask cracked and arm missing. 

“Ghost?” 

They hadn't even noticed Hornet right behind them. 

Their sibling moves their arm in the air, quick and pointed, and they have no idea what that means before- “Well they were small!” 

Oh, they're talking about them- 

Uh. 

They didn't ask to get bigger. 

Hornet startles, like Lemm had, but their sibling keeps their nail trained on the exact same spot. Why does their nail still fit them- 

“Let them out of the well, they're probably tired from their trip back up.” 

Elderbug is here too? Yes- They scramble up the hole, limbs still a little unwieldy- brushing past their sibling to his side, to finally sit down on their favorite bench again after so long. Elderbug walks a little closer and pats at their leg. 

“You've outgrown it a bit, haven't you?” 

Maybe just a bit. 

It's quiet, with Grimm's troupe gone and Zote off stuck somewhere probably. Hornet walks over first, and settles on the tiny amount of bench left. Their sibling follows after, slower nail dragging at their side. 

“What happened?” 

They climbed up. Well- they were hoping Godseeker would explain, but Godseeker wanted to stay and talk to Lemm and after a while they just really wanted to come back home.

It's nice to be able to explain what they're thinking at other people now. It's nice to be back in Dirthmouth in general, even if it's kind of quiet. He wonders how everyone else has been- if Bretta has come back from her journey of self discovery or if someone else had accidentally bothered the Nightmare Heart again, or how Cornifer and Iselda or Sly were doing. And now they had new questions- how were their siblings- siblings! two of them! 

They can sit here for hours, just wondering.

The company they keep is so nice now.

Their family.

Being hollow, being empty, seems like a long lost dream now, like they hope most dreams are going to be from now on, considering.

But their sibling keeps watching them, and tracing patterns in the air. 

“They say they're sorry- You don't know how to sign.” 

Oh. 

It wasn't your fault. 

For all that they've been through, their sibling was never the one they were mad at, after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> comments are always encouraged and very very very appreciated
> 
> find me on[ tumblr ](http://iamalivenow.tumblr.com/) and [ twitter](https://twitter.com/licotain)


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